Moving On

Everything is clean. The house has been dusted. Every corner has been vacumned. The counters are wiped. The mirrors are sparkling. The laundry is done. I guess it’s a healthy outlet. Cleaning. Although as Jocelyn put it the other day, cleaning is more fun with a mimosa in hand and the stack of bottles I need to take out for recycling before mom comes on Saturday tells me that maybe I’m not dealing as well as I would like. I quit smoking, so now I’m drinking? I don’t even like drinking. It makes my tummy hurt and my belly fat. I told a friend tonight, I think I am dangerously close to becoming 700 pounds and bitter. I’m not even that sad. Bored maybe? I just want to get out of the house, but my past stops me from picking up the phone to call company. I would rather be alone. That has to say something about the men in my life. I would rather hang out with a bottle of wine and a Swiffer duster than hang out with most of them. I’ve just stopped responding to all the texts. No, you don’t care how my weekend is going. No, I don’t want to come to Silverton. No, I don’t want to meet you for a drink on Monday. Or Tuesday. Or Sunday. I figure that if I don’t respond, they will take the hint…. They usually don’t. Silly boys.


I won’t lie. I do enjoy company now and again. I want to be wanted. Like most women. I want someone to desire me. To want to see me and want to hang out with me. I want someone to call!!!!! Not text. Call!!!!! I will not date another boy who doesn’t call and ask me out. It’s not hard. I pick up the phone everyday and call strangers to ask for business. He can pick up the phone and call and ask me out. Make plans ahead of time. Not at 10:30 at night, when I have to work in the morning. He can take me out for dinner… and pay. He can even pick me up if he wants to go all out, although I will let that slide. Eventually someone has to get it right. Until then I guess.